Call Me Cas
by avadrakethomson
Summary: Castiel is no stranger to humans. He's studied them, lived with them, he's even damned a few by extension, but he's always kept a safe distance. The Winchesters are his exception. (yes, it's another destiel fic.)
1. Night's Seem Longer When You Don't Sleep

Cas had always loved watching people sleep. It was an old hobby of his. People had funny little dreams, and watching them is an easy way to learn things about them. Dreams told a lot, after all.

Watching the Winchesters sleep was still interesting. Their dreams were adventures. Sam dreamt of sex and home and lost love. He dreamt about pretty girls and long car rides and dinners with his family. Sam saw his mother's face and his brother's smile and a girl called Jessica's laugh. Sometimes he saw with Ruby, although those dreams made Cas uncomfortable.

Dean's dreams were different, and much less happy. Dean's nights were mostly blank, but when he did see things, they were terrifying. Dean dreamt of Hell. He was tortured in his sleep. He saw death, mostly. Sam's, Bobby's, even his own. Cas hated watching Dean die most of all. He never made a sound when he slept. He didn't thrash or whimper. His eyelids barely fluttered. He stayed still and stiff, and suffered through whatever came up.

This night was one of his worse nights. Dean just replayed Sam's death, over and over. He would be running to him, close enough to touch him, when the knife plunged into Sam. He would fall into his arms, and Dean would cling to his brother's lifeless body.

When the scene would finally be over, it would start again.

The sun rose early and Dean woke up first, like he always did.

He ran his hand over his face and yawned. "What time is it?"

"Seven twenty-two, a.m." Cas said. He never showed any signs of his nightmares in the morning. Morning was a clean slate. Why stain it with the fears of yesterday?

He rolled over to see Sam in the other bed, still sleeping. Dean smirked. "You know, he sleepwalks when he has nightmares."

"I do."

He sat up in bed and pushed the covers off of him. Dean didn't wear shirts to bed. That didn't make Cas uncomfortable, but it made him feel odd. Sometimes Sam would sleep shirtless, but that didn't phase him much. Sam without a shirt was just Sam without a shirt. Dean without a shirt was a whole other animal.

"Sam." Dean said, getting up and shaking him. "Sam, get up."

Sam's eyes jerked open and he pulled back to hit Dean. It was a reflex at this point. Dean just laughed. "Calm down, Rocky. There's a gas station half a mile down the road, why don't you go get us some coffee?"

"Why don't you do it yourself?" Sam half whispered.

"Seniority. Get up."

Sam begrudgingly got out of bed. Dean pulled his keys out of his pants and threw them at him. Sam caught them in midair without even looking. The brothers were so in synch with each other that they almost shared a brain. They were always like that, even when they were children.

Cas had watched them their whole lives. Dean was taller than Sam until he turned eight and Sam hit his first growth spurt. Dean was jealous, as all little boys would be, but he never showed any signs of it. His only thought was to keep his brother safe, even in elementary school. He was born protective. Cas liked that.

Sam slammed the door behind him and Cas and Dean were alone.

"You know, I think this is the first time in weeks that we haven't had anything to kill." Dean said.

"Good." Cas sighed. "We can relax."

Dean buttoned up a plaid shirt and pulled on his jacket. "Relax? We'll relax when we're dead. We're going to seize the day."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

He opened the curtains of the motel and watched Sam drive off. "We'll improvise."


	2. Call Me Cas

"I don't like this." Cas said as he pushed through the hanging beads in the doorway.

"Oh, grow a pair. It'll be fun." Dean persisted, smiling and licking his teeth.

"I'm with Cas on this one. I want to go back to the motel." Sam ducked into the room and wrinkled his nose. Going to a strip club with his brother and and friend wasn't his ideal way to spend a day off. He'd rather stay inside with a book and his iPod than watch girls dance on a stage. He'd always thought himself a little classier than Dean. If he wanted to watch girls, he'd do it on the internet like a civilized human being, thank you very much.

Dean had no such morals.

His father took him to his first club when he was fourteen. He had a fake ID and everything. Cas was there, invisible in a dark corner. Cas was always there. Dean existed to protect Sam. Cas made it his personal priority to protect Dean. He was a guardian angel, of sort. His original plan was to keep Dean innocent, but that didn't last very long. After that, he just tried to keep him safe.

This club was dark and dusty. The walls were painted a bright pink color that had been stained and faded by time. One of the dancing girls spotted them and smiled. She ran longs fingers through her raven hair. When Dean saw her he smiled.

"Nicole." He said. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his. "You know you have to call me Jade while I'm here."

"Christ." Sam muttered. She looked him over. "Let's see." She started. "Sharp jaw, luscious cascading hair, remarkably tall. You must be Sam."

He gave Dean a sharp look. "I guess you know her?"

"She's an old friend."

"Friend?" Nicole narrowed her eyes and smirked. "Oh, come on now. We're a bit closer than that." She took a step back to see the whole group. She looked particularly close at Cas. Her eyes drifted up and down, looking perplexed. She lifted her arm for a moment, as if to touch him, but at the last second pulled away and turned back to Dean. "The usual?"

"Definitely."

She took him by the arm and led him back into a dark room with a sign that read 'Private. VIPs only.' Before he ducked into the room, he turned back to Sam and Cas and winked.

Sam rolled his eyes in disgust. "I'm gonna wait in the car. You coming?"

Cas stared down the door. "Go on." He said. "I'll be out soon."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Alright." He turned out the door of the little club.

Cas had sworn off eavesdropping on the Winchesters. He hadn't since Sam was in college. Well, at least not while they were awake. He drew that line for their privacy, but he _so_ wanted to know what was going on behind that door. He wasn't stupid. He knew what he was supposed to think, but for some reason, he didn't believe it. Sometimes, he could sort of paint over himself in a room. People only saw what they thought was there. With a little suggestion and luck, he could slip into the room and just sit in the corner.

Against his own better judgment, he went into the room.

He was expecting something, anything, out of the ordinary, and he found it. They weren't really doing anything at all. They sat on a couch, Nichole now had her hair in a ponytail and was wearing a hoodie over her skimpy uniform.

"You were right," she said, lying back on the couch and throwing her legs over Dean's lap. "he is handsome."

"Yeah." Dean sighed, looking at his knees.

"And Sam is bigger than I expected."

He laughed. "I told you. He's a fucking giant."

His eyes were glued downward. Cas tilted his head. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on. If he wanted to talk, he could talk to him or Sam. Why would he pay to talk to her?

"So, what's up today, slick?" Shed picked up a bottle of cheap scotch from the table beside them.

"Same thing as always." His breathing turned shallow.

She sat up and leaned into him. She pouted and pushed away some of his hair. "Sweetie, I don't know how you do it."

"Your father was a hunter. How did he manage?" He sniffled.

"You know I'm not talking about hunting." She slipped her hand behind him so she was practically sitting on his lap. "I saw the way he looked at you. I saw it in his face."

He finally moved his gaze to her. "You think?" He ran his arm under his nose. "Nicky, I don't know what I would do without you."

"Shh." She burrowed her face into his neck. "Call me Cas." She pushed her lips onto his and pinned him to the couch.

Cas didn't know what to do. He was confused and scared and relieved all at once. He slipped out of the room and ran out behind the club, hunched over and gasping. He felt like he was going to throw up, but he wasn't sure why.

The idea of a romantic love wasn't lost on him. Between all the too long looks and smirks he could have guessed some strange emotion was fostering. He was even sure he'd shared it. But to love a human? Especially on you've watched it's entire life, it was almost damning. His job wasn't to love.

And yet he felt himself stir at the thought.

'God.' He thought. 'Church. I need to get to a church.'

His legs went to jelly. Every three steps he fell to his knees. "God help me." He coughed. "God, allow me to be weak."


End file.
